


The Dying of the Light

by Melampus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Westeros, Child Loss, Crossover, Doctor Who References, Gen, Light Angst, Loss, Loss of Identity, Magic, Mentions of canon characters - Freeform, Not Epilogue Compliant, Original Character(s), Parent Harry, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-War, Reincarnation, Stealth Crossover, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29987013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melampus/pseuds/Melampus
Summary: Working as a Senior Auror years after the war with his partner Lisa Turpin, Harry Potter struggles with raising his daughter as a single father, his icy relationship with his ex-wife Ginny and his darkest secret, hidden away under lock and key. A secret that threatens his own sanity.After Lisa's return from France, they are given a new case; nothing more than a missing person case - taken only because their boss wants to show up the Hit-Wizards. It's an easy, simple case that should offer no complication by all accounts... but it hides far more than it appears and before the Aurors can even realize it, a sinister power gets the better of them.At the edge of space and time, Harry Potter is greeted by seven saviors and given the most difficult of bargains.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimers apply. 
> 
> This is a two-shot. It hasn't been beta-read. I tried to squash as many mistakes and inconsistencies as possible, but if you spot any, do let me know. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

Passing the Auror Corps’ basic training course was not as glamorous an achievement as most people believed it to be. They usually thought it meant battling dangerous dark wizards every odd weekend or nightly raids on illegal dark artifacts vendors right out of the Basic Training course. It went without saying that trainees were quickly discouraged from that mythification.

Though dangerous, the job was not as adventurous as it was made out to be - their sales pitch _did_ tend to brush aside the long hours of writing reports or the lack of life-threatening situations most of the time, after all. On the plus side though, one hell of a retirement plan!

At least, that’s what was going through the mind of one Harry Potter as he fought off the heaviness from his eyelids, trying to make sense of the phrase he’d been staring at for the last five minutes. A sluggish glance at the old clock on the wall attested to that. Had it only been five minutes?

_‘Damn, easily felt like triple that amount.’_

Harry grimaced, suppressing the yawn building up at the base of his throat. What was he doing again? His gaze moved to the framed, smiling visage of Evelyn to his right as she waved at him, a cone of ice-cream on the other hand. The photo was like a small island of peace in the chaos of his desk, cluttered with countless reports.

A firm knocking on his office’s door broke through his stupor with a jerk, a stern voice echoing from beyond. “Potter, got a minute?”

He looked up, blinking in an attempt to focus his blurry sight. Feeling his wand arm shake, he looked down only to stare numbly at his wand, grasped with a vice-tight grip in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed it.

Taking a deep breath, he slid it into ita holster as he answered. “Yeah, come in.”

Aphrodisia Crickerly entered the room. She was a thin, reedy woman and her face looked to be made entirely of harsh edges more acquainted with a frown than a smile. The stars on the lapel of her standard-issue red Auror cloak were black, signifying her position as Chief Auror.

Seeing the stack of folders on her arms, Harry repressed the groan that wanted to escape his throat. “Boss,” he acknowledged instead with a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?”

"There’s this thing called politeness, Potter. It does wonders for everyone to get along.” Her reply was dry, but Harry simply snorted.

“Fearsome spell, that one. I’m sure I could’ve killed Death Eaters with it in the war.”

“Perhaps not Death Eaters, but they aren’t the ones trying to keep the peace in our society,” the woman replied with a raised eyebrow.

She looked utterly unamused, excellent proof of the reason why some Aurors jokingly called her the Stoneheart behind her back. The name fit her surprisingly well, in Harry’s opinion. Not that he’d shared that fact with anyone else, mind you.

Harry nodded, slumping in his chair. “Well, what have you got for me, Aphrodisia?”

“Just making the rounds on everyone. We’ve recently got several new cases that need to be assigned,” she said, lifting the folders she carried to emphasize her words. Her eyes were busy taking in the state of his desk, however.

Lips pursed and face blank, she looked up to stare at him. Harry could take a guess as to why she didn’t put the folders on it and relieve herself of their weight, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Right. Anything of note?”

“Not really, just the usual types, but I do have one for you. Speaking of which, how’s the report on your last case going?” she asked.

“It’s coming along, it’s not as fast with Durand gone,” Harry grunted after a quick glance at the paper he’d been staring just before she showed up.

His gaze wandered about the room, taking on the poorly hidden disheveled state it was in and tried not to wince too hard. He didn’t remember the last phrase he’d written on the report. He couldn’t even remember the intel on the notes the French Auror had left for him to put in the report. Not that he cared too much about that detail, though.

 _‘Prick,’_ Harry thought uncharitably. From the confines of the photograph, Evelyn giggled at him for a second before looping back into a smile, waving at him.

After a pause, Aphrodisia gave him a curt nod. “Good. If you’re almost done, I’ll expect it by tomorrow evening. Corbin has been getting on my case lately to get the reports sooner.”

His reply was a mere shrug. Everyone knew of the Head Auror ever-changing eccentricities regarding his work. He could distinctly remember that one occasion when he’d grumbled like a miser goblin all day because a rookie trying to curry favor with him had brought his coffee _‘forty-two seconds late, you bum!’_

That said, he had this nagging feeling that Corbin’s obsession to receive reports as soon as possible wasn’t what she wanted to tell him. Curious, he met her gaze with a calm demeanor that was anything but that on the inside. He wondered if she noticed the slight trembling of his arms before realizing with a frown that yes, she probably did.

“So, what’s this case you mentioned?”

Going through the folders, Aphrodisia swiftly passed over the one meant for him. “Here. Let me know what you think.”

Almost every day, it was like this. The pay was pretty good, of course, and there were days when he reconnected with that distant rush, that half-forgotten feeling of blood pumping and buzzing in the ears as spells flew by. Those days were the minority. In others, he found actively reminding himself he hadn’t joined the Aurors for adrenaline rushes, but rather to help the people. Sometimes, he even managed to ignore the sour note in his mouth on those days.

Leafing through the files for a few minutes and glancing at the content, he felt like shouting at something. He looked up to shoot a disbelieving look at Crickerly, who was reading a paper with a stormy expression. “You can’t be serious. _‘Strange disappearances’, ‘No witnessess’_ … really? Just pass this to the Hit-Wizards and give those slackers something to do. This sounds right up their street.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but they’ve been swamped with numerous cases as of late, so they requested we take on this one. And before you ask; yes, Corbin approved it,” she told him with a flat voice, never taking her eyes off the paper.

That should have been his first –and only- clue. “He actually agreed?” Now, that was surprising.

“He sure did. An excellent chance to remind those Hit-Wizards idiots which one is the best body of security officers. His words, not mine,” Crickerly said, a faint sneer on her face.

 _‘Maybe not so surprising, after all.’_ That answer definitely had Corbin Willoughby’s name all over it. His strong dislike for Hit-Wizards was well-known among the Aurors.

“Well… guess I’ve got no choice then. I’d rather not disappoint the man,” Harry said as he stood up, unable to fully keep the relief out of his voice. Only a few more seconds and he’d get out of the constricting walls of his office and away from Crickerly’s prodding eyes.

“Ah, one moment, Potter. Remind me again, where did you say you busted that illegal transaction of Nundu fangs? In Knockturn, right?” she asked, pinning him with intense eyes.

Harry squinted, trying to remember. Was it Knockturn Alley? He was pretty sure it was. “Yes, that’s right.”

However, Crickerly’s question was enough to plant a seed of doubt in him and his eyes trailed to the desk where his report was. Or rather, _had_ _been_ , he corrected himself with something akin to dread brewing within him as he realized it was gone. With strong reluctance, he looked up to Crickerly and finally recognized the paper she’d been reading just moments before. 

_‘Oh, you ruddy-’_

“Interesting you’d say that, since it says here in your own report that it was in a warehouse on the outskirts of London and it wasn’t Nundu fangs but rather Manticore stingers!” she said, waving the paper with obvious disdain.

The scowl on her face was nothing short of impressive and it struck Harry just then that with the faded white hair atop her head, it made her look like a slab of marble upon which had been sculpted a worn, angry face.

Harry had to actively suppress the urge to let out either an irritated growl. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Crickerly’s shit. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he just gave Crickerly a small nod, trying to keep his face as blank as possible. “I apologize Chief, I must not have been paying attention. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not or I’m docking it off from your generous pay, Potter. We need to keep the records with the least errors possible or they will become a mess and I’d prefer if Corbin didn’t have any reason to whine at me.”

Normally, he’d laugh at threats like hers. He had just enough money to be well off for most of his life if he lived a bit frugally, so a smaller monthly pay was no big deal to him. However, he _did_ believe her capable of going through with it and seeing as it would be the consequence of a blunder he’d made, the entire ordeal would just leave a bad taste in his mouth. He’d rather not set a precedent.

Sometimes, owning up to your mistakes was the only thing you could do. “I understand. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Will that be all, Chief?” he asked, inflicting a modicum of respect into his voice.

It was obvious Crickerly wasn’t fooled by it in the least. “No, Potter, it isn’t. Sit, please,” she said, leaving the stack of folders on a cabinet made of dark wood. Her words were phrased as a request, but both knew it really wasn’t. 

Harry wondered for a moment how much of a backlash he’d get if he just walked away now. Considering the media circus created during his divorce, those bloodsuckers from the _Prophet_ would have a field day should the news of bad blood in Harry Potter’s Auror Corps department reach their ears. As satisfying as it would be, it wasn’t worth it. He wouldn’t put Evelyn through that a second time.

For what seemed like the millionth time, Harry cursed Skeeter in his head. Knowing the detestable woman was rotting in Azkaban was a cold comfort when the legacy she’d created still thrived on the newspapers. With a scowl, Harry sat down on his chair.

Looking satisfied with his compliance, Aphrodisia moved to the door and Harry watched in silence as she tapped the door once with her wand before flicking it in circular motion. A small red jagged line glowed briefly on the soft light of the morning, encircling the perimeter of his office. It pulsed once before fading away.

“You really think the others would eavesdrop?” he asked, voice tinged with obvious skepticism.

“Maybe not all of them,” his boss admitted as her wand disappeared into her sleeve. “But I have no doubt Philippa would try. And even if none did, would you give them the chance to do so when it comes to your personal life?” she questioned. It was obviously a rhetorical question.

“Is this what this is about, Chief, my personal life? Last time I checked, we don’t bring personal issues to the workplace.”

Aphrodisia’s brow furrowed even further, if such a thing was even possible. “We do when it starts to negatively affect your performance. And spare me the denials, Potter, I’m sure I’ve heard them all by now.”

“I honestly don’t know what you want me to tell you, in that case.”

“Let’s cut straight to the point, then. When was the last time you had a full eight hours sleep cycle, Potter?” Crickerly asked with the bluntness of a vicious bludger.

“The night before starting the Auror training program, ma’am,” he replied in the same manner. His lips curled up ever so slightly for a moment, unable to fully reign in his amusement.

A snort from Crickerly was all the reward he got for his efforts. “Funny. Now forget your trainee’s jokes and give me a real answer, Potter.”

This time, he answered truthfully. It wouldn’t do to antagonize the woman needlessly. “Well… Tuesday from last week, I think?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have given her the proverbial lackadaisical shrug as an answer. The veteran Auror leant back on her chair and regarded him with cold eyes. For a moment, Harry thought she would’ve snapped after his last remark, but she managed to avoid exploding right there, to his surprise.

“Potter, that was _four_ days ago. Are you telling me you’ve been scraping sleep by since then?” she asked, stupefied.

“As cliché as this is going to sound... it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Merlin’s beard, you really _are_ an idiot, Potter,” she said, pinched her nose with the most aggravated, drawn-out sigh he’d ever heard.

He honestly felt offended by her whole reaction. It’s not like he was a drooling mess slobbering all over the desk, Merlin’s beard! “I’m not _that_ bad!”

“Oh? So you don’t have the worst case of bloodshot eyes I’ve seen in years, then?” Crickerly questioned with a severe look. Had he been someone else, such a thing would’ve locked up his body with wariness, but he was Harry motherfucking Potter. Aphrodisia Crickerly hadn’t intimidated him since he was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie and she was a far cry from Voldemort at his worst even back then.

That’s what he told himself to avoid cursing out loud. He was sure the concealment would last longer. He’d never been that good at this kind of spell, but _this_ was just embarrassing… “Eh, it’s no big deal, just had a rough night.”

“I suppose the bags under all that makeup are no big deal either then.”

“What are you talking about?”

Aphrodisia scoffed, crossing her arms. “Nice try, but you can’t fool me. I’d be a terrible Auror, much less Chief Auror, if I didn’t notice important details, Potter, and you’re not the first to think they’re being so clever by using muggle care products. With Auror Tonks in the ranks, one tends to get good at spotting unusual disguises.”

Harry remained silent after that, staring at the desk with blank eyes. Impatient as she felt, Crickerly gave him time, knowing that pushing him would be useless. In the end, he broke down.

Harry sighed. “I thought I’d use it to hide them. Ginny’s leftover stuff she didn’t take with her when she left. There wasn’t much left in the bottles, so I had to do with what I found,” he explained with a reluctant voice. “Is it very noticeable?”

“No. One area is darker than the other, but it’s not really visible unless you’re looking for it. I have experience, of course.”

“Of course, go figure,” he said with a small chuckle. “Guess there’s no point in it anymore, then.” With focused swipes, the makeup came away and Crickerly finally saw the flesh underneath.

She cursed. “Merlin, Potter, what are you doing to yourself?! Have you never heard of Sleeping Draughts? Dreamless Sleep potions?”

He didn’t meet her eyes, preferring to look at Evelyn’s photograph. “I’d rather use them sparingly. Don’t want to get too dependent on them,” he answered, ignoring her outburst. 

He didn’t want to tell her just how long that had been going on. How the same potions she’d mentioned had no effect anymore. How overdosing made no difference. How he sometimes woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and skin feeling like it’d burn through wet towels, vomiting everything he had in his guts. How he felt like being pulled apart every time he remembered the half-forgotten, ghostly grin from his dreams.

A gaping maw and polished teeth, a dark abyss beyond them; a maw curled up and stretched from side to side to impossible levels. An impression always accompanied them, an instinct from forgotten senses - no human face could perform such a grin. It beckoned him forward, urging him to take up the mantle.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and allowed Crickerly’s grating complaints to wash over him and bring him from the foggy recesses of his mind. “Look at you, Potter. You’re dead on your feet and you look the part as well! Have you thought about what will happen if your body shuts down on you in the middle of an operation or a raid?”

“That won’t happen,” he said with a scoff.

“Quit acting like a bloody arse, Potter!” she hissed. “Your health is a serious matter, more so with you being an Auror! It’s not just your own well-being you have to consider; what about your partner if you go down? What about other Aurors working with you on the field?”

“Well, for starters, I’d trust them to hold their own. They’re Aurors, not Hogwarts students for crying out loud,” he said.

“If you’re going to act like a flippant fool, at least try to be a bit more subtle about it,” the woman rebuked with a frosty look. “We will review that flagrant disregard for the safety of your colleagues later, but this isn’t _just_ about the other Aurors and you know it.”

“Then tell me. What is this about?” Harry asked with a sardonic smile.

Crickerly chose to play her card at that moment. “Isn’t it obvious? What will happen to your kid if you die because of your own stupidity?” He froze, caught off guard and hated himself for making it so obvious to the woman.

The smile on his face had stilled, looking seconds’ away from twisting into a snarl. “Keep my daughter out of this.” His voice was more a growl than anything else.

“No, because as I see it, your ex-wife will try to take her away and the courts won’t have a say in it,” she said, but it only elicited a bark of laughter from him.

“Should I die, which I highly doubt, Ginny won’t take Evelyn. I’ve already made sure that _never_ happens,” Harry said with the quietest of voices. His eyes glinted with an unrecognizable emotion. “The Wizengamot Administration Services can be incredibly quick if you give them enough incentive. If _that_ fails, the goblins will take matters into their hands.”

Crickerly’s upper lip curled up in obvious disdain and she didn’t even bother trying to hide it. “You’d trust those money-grubbing beasts?”

“I only trust them as far as I can throw them, but they are more cunning than you give them credit for. The goblins might not be able to act so openly in most legal matters that fall under Ministry purview, but they still have their ways,” Harry told her. “And you know where you stand with them at least.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Harry, involving those - _them_.”

“Maybe, but Evelyn is worth far more than anything I’d pay them.”

That single phrase forestalled any possible retort she could have fired back. The sheer weight behind his statement was a testament to his protectiveness towards his daughter. In that moment, Aphrodisia Crickerly felt older than she had in years. “You would bet on that?”

“Just get to the point already!”

In retrospect, she should have realized that without proper sleep, he’d be more likely to fly off the handle after several days. Some days, working in the Corps felt like dealing with a bunch of snot-nosed brats.

“I’m giving you a paid leave of several days so you can get back on your feet. No need to thank me,” she coolly said, watching as Harry’s face went from irritated to shocked.

“ _What_? No, I refuse.”

“You… refuse?” she repeated, choking on the words as if the mere notion was unthinkable to her.

Giving her a vaguely non-committal sound, he shrugged. “There’s a lot of work to do. I’m wasted stuck at home instead of being in the field.”

_‘Days off wouldn’t do shit about this, anyway.’_

He got a chilling look from Crickerly as a reward for his cheek, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t get some pleasure from it. Besides which, it wasn’t his first time seeing it, so it was basically no skin off his back.

Aphrodisia gritted her teeth, nostrils flaring. “You’ve got to be the most stubborn, frustrating Auror we’ve had on the payroll.”

He gave her a dazzling smile, but from the way she gripped the armrest of her chair and the tone of her voice, it was obvious it wasn’t meant as a compliment. Honestly, would it even make a difference?

He frowned at the thought, straightening in his seat. Acting like an arse was fun and all, but he only did that because of the barest modicum of camaraderie between them and he knew when to stop pushing her buttons. _Even_ though he’d been smashing them today. “Okay, fine, I’ll take that leave,” he said after a beat of silence.

An unconvinced Crickerly shot him a suspicious look and Harry frowned.

“Don’t give me that look! I’m agreeing to this, aren’t I? But I’ll finish today’s shift at least.” Even with that last half-hearted attempt, Harry doubted he’d convinced her fully, but he was confident she wouldn’t say anything. She was getting what she wanted, after all.

“I suppose that’s the best I’ll get,” she muttered, looking as if she’d swallowed a sour lemon. “Fine, but after today you will take a full two weeks off and you’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again, Harry.”

He grimaced, scowling at the thought of two whole weeks being cooped up at home. “Understood. That all?”

“Just take a look at the case folder and meet Auror Turpin in twenty minutes at the Atrium.”

He looked up, a surprised look forming on his face. “She’s back?”

“Durand left two days ago, didn’t he?”

The surprise shifted into a pleased smile as Aphrodisia left. It would be good to see Lisa again after all these months. 

* * *

**xOOOx**

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry made his way down to the Atrium, unmindful of the few stares he still received. Ginny hadn’t exactly stayed quiet during or after their rocky divorce. _‘Let them look,’_ he thought. Looks only had as much power as you gave them. If only he’d understood that when he was a kid...

He wasn’t about to let Evelyn experience what he went through during his Hogwarts years, though. Any reporter who dared cross the line soon learned Harry Potter wasn’t someone you’d like to be unhappy with you.

Nodding here and there to various friendly acquaintances, Harry reached the Atrium, which was bustling with activity from Ministry employees and citizens alike. As always, Eric laid slumped in his chair, dead to the world in his snores behind the counter of the Security Desk. Not like he could blame him, he was pulling two shifts together more often than not, the poor bastard.

It still reflected badly on them all, though, but there was little Harry could do about it.

A soft poking at the back of his head drew his attention away from Eric’s post. Grunting, he turned only to see an interdepartmental memo hovering in front of him, neatly landing on his open palm when he reached out.

“A memo? This better not be Crickerly wanting to bust my balls again,” he muttered as he unfolded the memo. However, the purple paper aeroplane only had three lines written on it.

_Senior Auror Potter_

_Check behind the strings_

_Duncan Wright_

“How am I even supposed to decipher this? I don’t speak Unspeakable,” Harry grumbled under his breath as he scanned the lines.

Duncan Wright. He recognized that name - it was one of many aliases given to an Unspeakable that liaised regularly with the Department of Law Enforcement. Not that it helped much, given that many members from the Department of Mysteries either wore form concealing cloaks and enchantments or straight up drank Polyjuice to blend in. That Unspeakable in particular had talked to him with the appearance of a woman as many times as with one of a man.

“Check behind the strings… Why do the bloody Unspeakables always have to do things the hard way?” he complained before he pocketed the memo, shaking his head. He could worry about that later, he now had a partner to find.

Harry scanned the spacious hall. There he saw her, sitting on the ledge of the fountain as she conjured glowing shapes with her wand in a fit of boredom. Her blonde hair, neatly pulled into a ponytail, stood out against the pale white marble of the statue behind her and the sea of black and brown surrounding her.

Lips curling up into a wide smile, Harry made a beeline for her and it wasn’t long until she saw him. A mirroring smile lit up her face.

“Harry! How’ve you been? It’s great to see you again!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. They kissed each other on the cheeks but Lisa pulled back, rubbing her mouth with a laugh. “Man, you should take care of that rough beard.”

“Ah, sorry, I forgot to shave today,” he said, running a hand through it. She was right, it was coarse. Damn, when was the last time he shaved? “So, you’re back. How was France?”

“Ugh, way too boring. I can’t believe Kinsgley went through with that cooperation program idea with the Frenchies. Nothing happened, like nothing _at all._ Everything was cases of petty theft and things like that,” she complained as they made their way to the Floo cubicles.

“Pretty sure they sent you because Aphrodisia wanted to get you out of her hair,” Harry replied with an amused smile.

“Git,” she said, shoving him aside with a snicker. “You just destroyed all my built-up good will towards you, just so you know. Don’t expect a present from me this July.”

“I’m hurt, Lisa. Really,” he drawled. “But I’m sure that’s because you know I’m right.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I swear, that woman has it out for me. But hey, check this out - I learnt how to say this in French!” Lisa exclaimed with a grin before scrunching up her nose in what Harry assumed to be some sort of stuck-up persona. “ _Crickerly est chiante_!”

“I’m sorry, my French is a bit dusty here. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Crickerly is a pain in the ass! Or something, it might not be a perfect translation,” Lisa said with a laugh, making Harry shake his head as he chuckled softly. “So, what about my replacement? Mathieu Durand or something, right? He any good?”

“Not at all, he was a huge prick,” Harry dryly answered. “Wanted to punch his face more than once, in fact.”

“He was French,” she simply said with a nod as if that explained everything. Harry snorted, an amused smile pulling at his lips. “But forget about French guys, how’s my favorite rascal doing? She’s, what, five already?”

“Almost, she’s four and seven months and raising all kinds of hell whenever she can, obviously. She’s been asking about you a lot.”

“No wonder, considering she has to see your mug every day.” Lisa couldn’t quite stifle her laughter when she said that, but Harry simply rolled his eyes at her teasing. Around them, people glanced their way, their attention drawn in by Lisa’s laughter.

“Well, everything else’s been pretty quiet. Neville was talking to me the other day non-stop about an expedition to the Amazonas in two weeks. You should’ve seen him, the guy was practically drooling,” Harry said with a grin. “Say, did you take a look at the files?” 

Lisa nodded as her demeanor quickly shifted to serious. “Yes. Honestly, I don’t know why we’re wasting time on these small-time cases when that wacko is running around in Germany raising all sorts of hell.”

Lisa’s comment piqued his curiosity and he turned to her, lowering his voice. “Did you hear anything? Kingsley’s being really hush hush about the whole thing.”

“Well, it seems she’s been using Grindewald as a jumping point to raise her legitimacy amongst the darker circles, claiming to be the one who’ll finish what he started. One would think that they’d have had enough of Dark Lords after Grindewald, but apparently she’s got more support than everyone says she has.”

Harry grimaced. He hoped the Germans proved able to stop her before she turned into a serious problem. Merlin knew their own Ministry could’ve handled Voldemort’s return much better than it did.

“Honestly, I think this Auror cooperation program Kingsley suddenly set up with France might be because of her. You think they’ll ask us for help? Yours?” Lisa asked, curious.

Harry scowled. “No one lifted a finger for us with Voldemort…” he muttered. He wanted to argue that the Germans shouldn’t expect any help from them should it come to it, but Harry knew it was wrong. “Besides, just because I killed Voldemort, that doesn’t automatically make me an expert in killing Dark Lord wannabes.”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

“Anyway,” Harry said as he opened the folder to check the details as they reached the Floo cubicles. “Our missing man is Crassius Slope, a historian who owned a small apartment located in a side alley of Diagon’s. Apparently, he was supposed to meet with some friends of his, but he didn’t show up, so they went to his house to see if he was sick or something. He wasn’t there and when he didn’t show up for work the next day, they reported it to the Hit-Wizards.”

“Yeah, I remember that. Did they start to investigate before they pushed it onto us?”

“Not really, there is some speculation about possible disappearances being linked, but we’re talking about people capable of Apparition. They could be anywhere in the country by now,” he replied with a frown.

Lisa shrugged. “Well, let’s hope we find clues in that house then. Anyway, grab a handful of powder and let’s go.”

Minutes later, they were standing in front of a fairly non-descriptive building, having reached Diagon Alley moments ago. There was nothing extraordinary about the building, but Harry knew it wasn’t mortar and bricks that gave life to a building, but rather the people inside. Music floated out of the open windows from one of the houses, a jaunty tune that he found himself whistling along to the rhythm. If he strained his hearing, he could hear faint laughter from a conversation some floors above. All in all, a perfectly normal apartment building.

At that moment, Lisa spoke up. “So, Harry… I’m free on Friday and well, you see, I was thinking that maybe we could…”

“No.”

“B-but – you didn’t even listen to what I was going to say!”

“Let me guess, you were going to invite me to drinks. Again,” he wryly added after a pause. “No, thanks.”

“But Harry, how can you say that? It’s a great way to unwind, you know. Much better than doing overtime in those stuffy offices of ours!” she reasoned, trying to cajole him into agreeing.

Harry was unmoved. “I know you like it, but I’d rather not have to go and pretend to be enjoying myself. Once was enough, it’s just not my scene.”

“Aw c’mon Harry, you don’t socialize enough as it is; would it kill you to go again just once? When’s the last time you saw everyone else?” Lisa pleaded, but let out a small huff of irritation when he simply shrugged. “Ugh, so stubborn!”

“I don’t really feel like it. Besides, remember the day it was just us and Alec? Not to mention, I’ve got Evelyn to take care of. Mind the step, there’s a loose one. Which floor was it?” 

“Third one; second door to the right of the stairs. Anyway, I’m sure Tonks or Andy would love to babysit Evelyn! And you and Alec have lots to talk about! You know... boy stuff.”

Harry let out a low chuckle. “Oh yeah? Like that time you roped me into going with you two? You were more interested in each other than the conversation we were trying to have. Not in the mood to play third wheel, Lisa.”

“W-well, that was the one time!” Lisa sputtered, face crimson from embarrassment.

“Whatever you say. So… ah, it must be that one with the red door,” he guessed once they reached the third floor.

As they approached, Harry cast several spells to check for possible curses or hexes on it, just to make sure but there was luckily no visible response from the spell. “Did you seriously expect to find a curse on the door, Harry?” she mocked.

“Should I remind you about what happened during the Dunwich case?” he asked, giving her a grin.

Lisa winced. She cleared her throat, feeling awkward. “Ah, carry on, then.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said with a smug look. He reached for the handle, but the door opened without resistance, swinging open with a creaking noise.

“Oh, a classic!” Lisa whispered under her breath.

“Lisa…”

“Fine, fine. So – wands out, you reckon?” Lisa had been peering intently at the unknown beyond the entrance, which is why she completely missed the brief grimace that crossed Harry’s face.

”Yeah.”

They went through every room, wands at the ready. Neither of them expected anyone inside, but it wouldn’t be the first time an assumption backfired in a spectacular manner on them. Once, in the middle of a case, they’d stumbled entirely by chance upon a large illegal smuggling ring in a warehouse that was supposed to be empty.

Trying to find your way out of an unexpected killzone was easier said than done when you had at least nine wands flinging spells at you from different directions and the whole place has anti-Apparition wards. He still couldn’t quite believe they’d managed to get the hell away in one piece from that particular clusterfuck.

“All clear. An empty house, just as we expected.”

“Alright, now comes the fun part: clue gathering,” he said. The previous lightheartedness of his face had faded into a serious demeanor.

Lisa groaned. “God, I hope there’s something to find here.”

“You know this job doesn’t work like that. Now get to work, grunt.”

“Ugh, I hate you sometimes.” Harry just gave her an utterly unimpressed look at her half-hearted complaint.

The dining room didn’t have much of note: on the big table there was wide open Scamander’s magnum opus, the famous _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,_ bookmarked on several pages; the couch of black fabric, littered with outdated issues of the _Prophet_ ; a beautiful painting of a nature landscape with Stonehenge on the backdrop and clouds lazily trailing above on the sky; a small side table with an empty, dirty owl cage on it; next to a strange book titled _A Brief History of Time_.

In short, the entire house gave the impression the owner of the house would return at any moment. But there was nothing that jumped out at him immediately as a clue.

Harry decided to check the office he’d seen before, hoping he’d be more likely to find clues there. The room itself was a small thing, the kind of room you expected to find in an apartment below your hopeful expectations. He wondered for a moment where he should start; there were a lot of books crammed in that bookcase on his left and the desk was littered with so many papers and random stuff it wasn’t even funny. Even the floor itself wasn’t safe from it!

Wincing, he raised his wand. “ _Revelio_.” Nothing happened and Harry sighed. “Too much to ask, huh? Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then.”

An open bottle of Firewhiskey next to a half-filled glass on a small table drew his attention and he approached the table, eyes narrowed. “That’s been out in the open for some days…” Bringing it up to his nose, he inhaled and wrinkled his nose. It smelled rank and stale, and feeling light-headed just from a single whiff, he knew that had been a mistake.

Feeling dizzy, he leant heavily on the table, trying to keep upright. The room spun like crazy around him and his legs felt so much like jelly that he was sure they’d fail him at any second. Something bitter demanded release from his throat.

“The… fuck?”

That reaction wasn’t normal at all. Firewhiskey shouldn’t smell so badly just from being left out open for some days! Wobbling unsteadily, he turned to the door. There on the door stood a figure in a dark coat, black holes for eyes and a bleached grin that only he could see.

Eyes tightly shut, Harry took several deep breaths and focused all his attention on that alone. His senses slowly returned to him, but the faint feeling of sickness remained within him. There would be no one standing in front of him when he looked again.

Just as he predicted, only empty space greeted his eyes when he opened them again. _‘Those days of vacation don’t sound so bad anymore.’_

Nerves frayed, he stumbled about erratically, but gave a small thanks to every deity that decided to take pity on him when he found a small book under all the clutter from the desk. “A journal, maybe,” he mused out loud, moving his jaw around as he tried to get rid of the sour aftertaste.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he kept glancing at the doorway.

His theory was confirmed when he saw the blank pages; they looked faded, with the pale, yellow tint of age and wear to them. However, he was soon disappointed when they came up empty. If there was anything written in them, it was something he couldn’t see. A simple revealing charm established that there were no concealing spells of any kind on it.

With the diary in his hands, old memories came to him. A faded book of black leather covers. Lies and half-truths woven on spoken and written words. He very much doubted Slope’s diary was like Tom’s. The knowledge of Horcruxes and the meaning behind the word was an obscure secret to almost everyone.

_“Would you like to see your mother and father again? Together... we can bring them back. All I ask… is for something in return.”_

Harry sneered. He had Evelyn now. “I hope you’re enjoying your inexistence, Tom.” 

Shaking his head, he was about to close the journal and leave it there, but then, he found it – an actual entry, the only one in the journal in its very first page.

> _ June 17, 2006 _
> 
> _I can’t seem to remember where I left my old diary, so I began a new one. Real bummer because I had all my notes and thoughts in it. I’m not worried though, I’ll find it sooner or later. I’m sure I never took it out of my home._
> 
> _Anyway, I’m meeting up with the boys on the 21th for a few rounds of Firewhiskey and to catch up a bit. It’ll be good to see them again; these past months have sucked the life out of me. I’ll have to remember to bring the book Ian happily lent me the other day and give it back. It’s amazing the inventiveness of muggles, travelling through time –without magic! It sounds completely bollocks, but then again, our ancestors didn’t have cameras some centuries ago, as he is often fond of reminding me! Cheeky bugger._
> 
> _However, even my enjoyment of the book has only briefly managed to take my mind off this fear in my bones. I shudder to think what would’ve happened had I not thrown them all out the apartment the moment I realized it. It broke my heart to throw out that statuette of Athena, being a gift from my sister. But I had to._
> 
> _I can’t lower my guard. Now that I know they’re around us, they’re watching me, stalking me. Lying in wait for…_

“Harry, you might wanna come and take a look at this! In the bedroom!” Lisa’s sudden shout snapped Harry out of his reading before he left the office to regroup with his partner, taking the journal with him.

“What is it, Lisa?”

“This,” she said, pointing at a cork panel hung on one of the walls of the room. It had a map of Britain pinned to it, with marked spots all over it and lines of strings connecting each point. Next to some of them, there were small strips of paper – _Daily Prophet_ news, he realized with a start, announcing the disappearances of several individuals.

“Look at the names. Marien Edraska in Hogsmeade, Glædwine Henricus in The Leaky Cauldron, Marcus Orpington in Godric’s Hollow… Something tells me we’ll have them in our Missing cases.”

“Well, this confirms Slope was connected to them in some way, but we don’t know how yet. Look at the first page, what do you make of it?” he asked, passing her the journal.

Quickly going through the few lines, Lisa sighed. “Well, I’m not sure if this guy was completely off his rocker or just as paranoid as old Mad Eye,” she said before adopting a perplexed look when she realized what she’d said. “Huh, never thought I’d say that in my life.”

“But think about it; if what he hints at is true, this just got more complicated than we thought at the beginning.”

“Please Harry, are you really going to believe some mysterious group is kidnapping people for…uh, whatever it is they want? Sounds kinda far fetched if you ask me. Who would do it, anyway? We’ve been cracking down hard on most cases of serious illegal activities lately.”

“People didn’t believe me or Dumbledore when we said Voldemort was back. It took him showing up in the Ministry of all places for everyone to get their heads out of their arses. It may be nothing, but we shouldn’t chance it.”

“Fair enough,” Lisa said before her face broke out into a grin. “Good thing you’re the senior Auror and not me if this blows up in our faces.”

“You’re such an arse.”

“Thank you, I do believe I’ve got a great one, yes.”

Harry groaned, which Lisa took as her cue to burst out laughing. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Harry grumbled, shaking his head. “Should’ve stayed in France… Anyway, focus on the job. We should go and turn in the diary for safekeeping at HQ. I doubt we’ll do much more with the few hours we have left, anyway,” he said.

“We should also find some time to track down Slope’s friends and talk to them. They might know something that could help us,” Lisa mused out loud, getting a nod from Harry.

“You’ll have to tell me how that goes though. Today’s my last day before going on leave.”

Hearing that, Lisa perked up with a chuckle. “Crickerly finally cracked down on you, huh?”

“Sure, if you can even call it that; she almost blackmailed me into accepting,” Harry muttered, looking none too happy about it.

“Sounds like her alright! But yes, you do look pale. You sure you’re not sick?” she asked.

“Woman, I’ve always been pale,” he said with a deadpan voice, ignoring the concerned look she sent him.

“I meant more than _usual_ , smartarse.”

“Whatever, I got enough crap about it from Crickerly anyway. I’m fine.”

Lisa raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Okay, okay, don’t get so worked up geez. Oh, before I forget, maybe I could drop by tomorrow and say hi to that hellion of yours?”

“Sure, but remember she leaves school at four o’clock, so stop by some point after five. She’ll love to see you’re back,” Harry told her absently, doing a last visual sweep of the room.

Everything looked just like before, with that feel of being ‘lived in’ still hanging in the air, as if the owner was about to return at any moment. Scamander’s book open on the dining table, bookmarked in some parts; the couch with issues of the _Daily Prophet_ on it; the beautiful painting of a landscape with Stonehenge on the backdrop; the empty, dirty owl cage on the side table, placed beside that strange book about time and the small reproduction of an Angel of Grief just behind it.

“Aw, Harry, you don’t want me to come sooner so we can catch up you and me… alone?” she questioned, voice lowering into a blatant husky whisper as she waggled her eyebrows with a grin.

“Laying it on a bit thick there, Lisa. Maybe I should tell Alec, see what he has to say about it,” he told her with an amused look, only to be taken aback when Lisa burst into uncontrollable laughter.

An annoyed Harry had the distinct feeling he’d unknowingly become the butt of some unknown joke with his own words.

* * *

**xOOOx**

* * *

Four days later, Harry found himself slouched on the couch of his living room during the evening, trying to read an ancient scroll on esoteric defensive spells and charms, the kind of stuff he’d only seen Albus and Voldemort use. It was a gift from Bill, part of his share of the spoils from one of his expeditions in some Egyptian tomb or another.

The text was dry, nigh incomprehensible without a judicious use of translator charms and riddled with religious and symbolic imagery and similes that went over his head most of the time. In fact, the only reason he was reading it with more than a passing interest was because it held a passage about banishment from evil spirits.

In short, it was the perfect book to ignore the dark, cowled figure that sat at the dining table scant feet away from him. It tapped bony fingers onto the table, making a vaguely jaunty sound that seemed utterly divorced from the threatening aspect the figure held.

Harry knew it was staring at him, but he’d gotten quite used to ignoring it. Maybe one day, it would go away.

 _You do not believe that._ The voice slithered into his ears without any sound to give them a tone. _You struggle against that which is inevitable. It is perplexing._

“Get out of my head,” Harry hissed under his breath, mindful of Evelyn’s presence on the other side of the living room, playing with the charmed stuffed dragon Lisa had brought her from France.

If only he could rid himself of the blasted items! The only comfort he had was that Evelyn couldn’t see or feel the apparition, but it was a cold one that kept its tight grip on his heart. The sooner he banished this… thing from his daughter’s vicinity, the better.

_You cannot banish that which does not exist, young friend. How can one swipe through the shadows at the corner of their vision? When will you face the truth staring at you?_

Growling, Harry lifted the scroll’s aged papyrus to hide the maddening apparition from his sight, but that did nothing to stop the raspy laugh that grated his ears with an echo that reverberated with a strange duality.

_A naïve hope. I do not need eyes to see nor senses to feel._

“Fuck. _Off_ ,” Harry declared with a tightly controlled voice, putting down the scroll to look at the cowled figure only to see empty air on the chair it had been sitting on. The cold laugh tinkling like a dirge over his nape was the only sign there had been someone else in the room.

Fuck.

The two weeks of paid leave Crickerly had talked him into taking had been a good idea for some things, loathe as he was to admit it. He’d been running on fumes so much that the first night he fell dead to the world the moment his head touched the pillow. It was the first night he got a full night of undisturbed rest in nearly a year and when he woke up the next day, he was reinvigorated in a way he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

Unfortunately, the days of paid leave also meant he had too much time on his hands now, enough to worry himself sick about the terrifying being that had started to haunt his life little more than a year ago.

No wards could keep it from where it wanted to go, and distance mattered nothing to it. It had a purpose, though Harry didn’t even dare contemplate it. Everywhere he went, it was there – watching, studying, assessing him from under the darkness of that hood.

He’d tried to confront it more times than he could count only to be laughed at in the face when no spells passed by it harmlessly. All the sleepless nights, the stress of feeling watched, waking up during the night only to see it huddled in the room’s darkest corner staring at him… its presence was the reason for his divorce. One of many, at least.

But his greatest worry wasn’t his own wellbeing. That’s why he’d been looking into the more obscure forms of protection magic and banishment hexes. His daughter depended on him and he’d be damned if he let some damn apparition threaten her safety.

The sudden roaring of the fireplace snapped him out of his thoughts, as a small ball of green fire sprouted from the logs. Turning to look at it with a frown, he watched as a form took shape in the flames.

“Harry, you there?” Lisa’s disembodied face asked.

“I’m here, Lisa. How are things?”

“It’s work-related. Your little rascal there?” Her voice was tense, impatient. It was obvious this wasn’t a social call.

Harry’s frown worsened. If she was specifically asking about Evelyn, whatever it was that had forced her to call him when he was on leave couldn’t be good. Trying to ignore his disquiet, Harry looked towards his daughter, who was still playing.

“Sweetie,” he called out, catching her attention. “Go to your room to play for a bit, ok? Daddy must talk with his friend. It’s about boring work stuff.”

Nose scrunching up in childish disgust when hearing his description, Evelyn complied and quickly ran off towards her room, red hair flying about, but not before getting a promise out of him to play with her later.

Harry watched his daughter go. _Daughter_. He had never even considered the thought of having a family of his own during his Hogwarts years, not with the threat of Voldemort threatening whatever hopes for a future he might have had.

And now he had a daughter. _‘God, I still can’t believe I have one.’_

With Evelyn gone, he approached the fireplace. “We’re alone. What’s going on, Lisa?”

Lisa’s face hesitated, looking deeply worried and distraught now. This only served to unnerve Harry further; Lisa was usually a lighthearted woman with a propensity to joke around. Whatever this was, it had to be really serious for her to look so anxious.

“Harry…” she began with a shaky voice. “ _Harry_ , I don’t know how it happened. He was- he was with _me_! I just, I just looked away for a moment! It was only a moment, I swear!”

“Lisa…” Harry began, but the woman didn’t even seem to hear him as she kept stammering. “Lisa, calm down and stop blubbering! Tell me what’s going on!” 

Thankfully, the shout appeared to work, since Lisa fell silent immediately and took several deep breaths to calm down. When she spoke again, her voice still trembled noticeably, but it was much more put together this time.

“We- we were in Slope’s apartment, looking for more clues. I- I can’t explain how it happened, but… he – Harry, Alec’s gone missing!”


	2. Chapter 2

_‘I hate mornings_.’ That was the first thought Harry had when he stepped onto Diagon Alley the morning after his Floo Call with Lisa. ‘ _Especially depressing mornings.’_

It was ungodly early, but a thick fog glided over stone and buildings, covering everything in a shroud of grey. It mirrored the clouds high up in the sky, threatening rain. It was one of those days where few were out, most opting to stay in their houses. He could understand that; the fog and the few number of adventurous individuals who had decided to go outside made Diagon Alley look like some ghost town.

Beside him, Lisa’s dragonhide boots clicked softly on the street’s pavement with a characteristic rhythm. “I just don’t know how it happened, Harry. Everything was fine, we were looking for more clues, as I told you. There was no one around, we checked. But he still disappeared! I thought it was a prank at first, but when he didn’t show up laughing and the minutes passed…” his partner trailed off with a worried look as they navigated through the fog.

“I understand. Don’t worry, Lisa – we’ll find him,” Harry assured her, though the words felt more like a rote repetition than a true promise. He had no idea what could’ve happened. Anderson wasn’t a man given to stunts like pranks on the job. “How come he was paired with you while I was on leave, anyway? Crickerly isn’t one to let romantically involved Aurors partner together on the field.”

“It was a temporary measure. His partner Septimus got hit with a nasty curse on their last job. Week-long recovery, as I understood it. Crickerly paired Alec with me because everyone else was already assigned to other cases. Trust me, she definitely wasn’t happy about it.”

“I see. And he disappeared when you weren’t looking at him for one moment, right? No concealment charms were present, nothing out of the ordinary?”

“I already told you, Harry! Nothing was out of place, there was no residual magic to track! He just… _disappeared_!” Lisa exclaimed with obvious frustration.

Harry sighed. “Alright. Whatever is going on in Slope’s apartment, we’ll find out. We’ll get Alec back, Lisa.”

Lisa gave him a jerky nod as they made their way through a fog ridden Diagon Alley. There were few people on the street at this hour, a far cry from the bustling activity it had on a more hectic hour.

“Anyway, who else knows about this?”

“Only Crickerly. As soon as it became obvious something had happened to Alec, I rushed to HQ and told her. She ordered me to keep it to myself.”

“And so, the first thing you did after that was contact me,” Harry dryly replied.

“Well, what else did you expect me to do? Alec’s my _boyfriend_ , Harry! I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while he’s gone!”

“Alright, but you know she’s going to give us hell for this. Did she say what she planned on doing?”

“No, it was all too sudden. I’m guessing she’ll send a team to investigate, but that will take time and I’m not going to wait doing nothing while Alec is MIA!” Lisa repeated. “If Crickerly wants to go off on us, I’ll happily take it.”

“Let’s hope we can find more clues in Slope’s apartment, then. At least we’ll have something to show for it,” Harry said.

Lisa’s recklessness reminded him too much of his years at Hogwarts; he wasn’t about to leave her to hang, but he was all too aware of the potential repercussions on their job. Going on your own in the Auror department was a pretty good way to get yourself fired quickly.

Minutes later, they reached the building where Slope resided. Half-hidden in the fog, it almost looked like a slumbering beast taken out of a nightmare. Harry felt a tad unnerved for some reason upon seeing it, a feeling that only heightened when he noticed the silence inside the building the moment they entered.

Once they reached Slope’s apartment, Lisa took out her wand. “One moment, let me check something,” she said, casting a spell on the door.

“What’s the monitoring charm for?”

“I put one on the door before we left the other day. Just in case someone tried to… uh? This is-” Lisa trailed off, sounding unsure as she eyed the door with a dumbfounded look.

“What is it?”

“This- this can’t be right. Something triggered the monitoring charm.”

“What’s so strange about it? It might be a culprit. Alec couldn’t have triggered the charm, right?” Harry said with a pensive look.

Lisa merely shook her head, disbelieving. “No, no - the monitoring charm only registered something leaving, _never_ entering. And it’s acting all wonky; it gives me both positive and negative readings for life signs.”

“What? For the love of- Lisa, do we have to send you to Basic Training again? How could you get a simple monitoring charm wrong?” Harry shook his head, shooting her an exasperated look.

“Screw you, I’ve never botched a monitoring charm in my life! I know I did it right!” Lisa snapped, glancing at the door with uncertainty. “There’s something damn wrong going on here.”

Harry’s brow creased into a frown as he tried to come up with an explanation for the odd readings. For all the grief he'd just given her about it, Lisa was right; a monitoring charm wasn’t that difficult to cast with proper training and practice, things which she had in spades.

“Maybe whoever left the house got inside through one of the windows?”

“How? They’d need a broom just to get to this floor and I’m pretty sure anyone looking up from the street would easily notice a Disillusioned person. And I highly doubt the odds of the trespasser owning a near perfect invisibility cloak.”

Harry shifted in his spot, face stony as he considered for a moment his own cloak, locked in a heavily warded trunk in the darkest recess of his Gringotts vault. In the periphery of his awareness he could almost sense a looming presence and moving minutely, he felt a long and knobby object safely tucked away in a hidden pocket of his Auror cloak where there had been nothing seconds before.

A gust of cold wind blew from behind them and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He’d swear he felt eyes on the back of his head. The temptation to turn around was very strong, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see if there was something behind.

Harry grimaced. “True. Let’s do a second sweep and keep your wand at the ready.”

However, they couldn’t find proof of anyone having broken into the house during the days between their visits and certainly no clue regarding Alec Anderson's strange disappearance. To Harry, everything looked as it did when they left several days ago, with nothing moved out of place. The house was eerily quiet, just like the other day.

“Well, no _Protego_ used or any of its variants; _Specialis revelio_ comes up null and _Dissendium_ wasn’t used either... Seriously, this is so damn creepy,” Lisa muttered. “There’s no residual magic leftover. Like, _at all_. Nothing that would conceal his activities like _Cave inimicum_ or something like that.”

“Whoever came here didn’t use magic, then. Smart,” he said before a thought came to him. “Wait, what about disillusionment charms? And you had to use spells when you were searching yesterday with Alec too, right? None of those show up either?”

“Yeah, none, but that’s not all. Spells used for mundane stuff like cooking or washing the dishes? They don’t show up either. There’s literally no traces of magic here,” Lisa replied with a flabbergasted expression, prompting Harry to frown.

“That’s… odd.” Odd was an understatement, there should be at least leftover traces of magic from their previous investigations and even from Slope’s spells and charms.

“Yeah, but like hell I’ll be chased out of an empty house by some weird readings on a monitoring charm. I’ve got a boyfriend to find; let’s get this done,” Lisa declared with a flinty look in her eyes.

“We still have to find the first journal Slope mentioned he’d been using. He also mentioned meeting with some friends, which were the ones who denounced his disappearance. It hasn’t been long since that; his first diary should still be around here.”

“So, just go over every nook and cranny again and hope to get lucky?

“Not how I’d put it, but yeah, that’s it.”

“Dammit Harry, if we didn’t find it the first time, I doubt we’ll find it now! We have to look for Alec!”

“We didn’t know what we were looking for then, now we do. Besides, remember that magic isn’t the be-all and end-all. He could simply have hidden it under the couch and you wouldn’t find it because you were too busy looking for concealment spells. If we find the lost journal, we’ll be one step closer to finding Alec – that book is the key.”

Lisa stilled for a moment, closing her eyes, and muttered something under her breath before she let out a deep sigh. “Okay. _Okay_. We can do this.” He didn’t miss the way her voice faintly wavered for a moment, but he very pointedly ignored it. “I’m going to check the bedroom again, maybe I missed something. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

Staring at her retreating back, Harry thought of saying something –anything- to help one of his friends, but what else could he say to get through her? Whatever he said would only be empty words until they found a credible lead to Alec. He could only stare at his partner with worry for her. He couldn’t even imagine what she was going through.

He hesitated. He took a single step as if to follow her before he stopped, unsure of what to do. And then the moment passed, and she disappeared behind a turn of the corridor. _‘I should go after her, try to cheer her up somehow,’_ he thought, but instead of obeying his mind, his feet slowly carried him towards Slope’s bedroom.

What would he even say? That they’d find him? It was nothing that he hadn’t told her before. He couldn’t tell her everything would be alright. If there was something they’d learnt as Aurors, it was that sometimes there was no happy ending no matter how hard you tried.

The silence that hung in the house, before a quiet if foreboding reminder of the owner’s disappearance, now carried the uncomfortable feeling of things left unsaid. Even then he did not move and with a sigh, he started going through the room in the hopes of finding the first journal.

Time passed and as the sun slowly inched its way to its peak, it became increasingly obvious to Harry that they wouldn’t have much luck in finding the blasted journal. Getting fed up with the lack of results, Harry called Lisa over to the dining room to rethink their strategy.

“This is getting us nowhere,” the woman complained with a scowl, deeply agitated. “Nothing comes up in my scans! Either Slope got some sort of weird phobia to using his magic or he really was more paranoid than Mad-Eye!”

Harry agreed with her assessment. “If he hadn’t used his magic in quite some time, then it’ll be noticeably harder to find the bloody book. Considering the size of his house, we’d need several more people to cover all the spots and make sure no stone is left unturned. To be honest, the lack of magical traces leaves us with few options.”

“I don’t even understand why he had so much crap lying around. I mean, he even had a sewing kit in a drawer! The threads were of good quality and all, but Merlin, why would he even need one?” Lisa asked in a rhetorical manner, shaking her head.

“He probably used it for his evidence board. You know, linking the thumbtacks and all that,” he absentmindedly told her, even as something in the periphery of his mind lit up at Lisa’s words. Blinking, a wide smile slowly formed on his face as his brain furiously followed the vague thought that had sprung up. “Yes, of course, that’s it! Lisa, I think I know where to find the journal! Where did you find the sewing kit?”

“T– the kit? It was- uh, that one room with all the clutter in it. White cabinet, third drawer from the top.”

Harry bolted in the direction of said room and Lisa followed at a safe distance, unsure of what prompted _that_ reaction. “I found it! It was hidden behind the sewing kit, almost falling into the lower drawer through a gap in the shelf planks!” she heard him yell before she went into the room, glancing at the small book in his hands. It was the journal they’d been looking for.

“So, how did you even know where to look?” Lisa asked, folding her arms.

“Ah, that! Yeah, look at this,” Harry told her, slipping a hand into one of his Auror cloak’s pockets and pulling out a Ministry memo. “Wright sent me this before I met you in the Atrium the other day. I didn’t think much of it ‘till now, but… they might know something. Wright does, at the very least,” he mused with a frown.

Lisa shrugged, looking over the memo he’d given her. “Doesn’t surprise me at all. Unspeakables - they’re weird as hell.”

“I guess… Anyway, we have the other journal now; with some luck, we’ll finally have a breakthrough.” Harry made a motion as if to open it but paused with a confused look. “Actually, Lisa… can you hear anything?” he asked.

The blonde tilted her head, straining her hearing. “Uh, no, not really. Why?”

“It just came to me – there’s absolutely no sound in the building. Don’t you find that strange?” he replied with a suspicious look, lowering his voice to a whisper. However, Lisa didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say.

“And that is relevant… how?”

“Don’t you get it? Look at these walls – this building is not thick enough to block out all sound and any open windows would carry them easily. It’s 11 o’clock in the morning, and there’s no sound from _none_ of the other residents?” he questioned under his breath as he readied his wand. “I don’t think we’re alone here, Lisa.”

Lisa immediately took out her wand and positioned back to back with him to cover Harry’s blind spots. In their line of work, they had learnt that most of the time, they shouldn’t dismiss their gut feelings.

“The kidnapper?” she asked in a crisp voice as they slowly left the room into the main corridor.

“Possibly. Stay sharp. We’ll check the other apartments, just in case,” Harry instructed as he looked left towards the vestibule of Slope’s apartment.

“Got it. I assume we’ll do- _what the fuck_?” Lisa’s question suddenly cut off as she stuttered in shock.

Harry whirled around and looked at the room, wand ready to engage in whatever threat Lisa had seen but there was nothing out of the ordinary in the small dining room. “What did you see?”

Lisa pointed a shaking finger at the small stone figurine of an Angel of Grief resting inconspicuously on the table, just edging into view from the doorframe. “That- that statue. I swear it moved! It was on the couch when we arrived, I’m sure of it!”

Approaching with caution, Harry cast several spells as they entered the room, frowning as each one proved unable to give him satisfactory information. “Just a figure made of stone, nothing weird about it. Are you sure it moved?” he asked, looking at her.

“Of course I am!” she replied through gritted teeth, scowling at him.

When they both looked again at the statue, it had moved to the edge of the table, an arm stretching to them while it covered its eyes with the other.

“... Okay, even by our standards, this is getting creepy.” 

“If this is someone’s idea of a joke, it’s _not_ funny,” Lisa said with a hiss, gripping her wand tighter as she stared at the statue as if willing it to reveal its secrets. “Is this the doing of our mysterious culprit?”

“There’s no one on the apartment… but maybe someone is inside one of the others. Let’s check them out and get to the bottom of this,” Harry proposed with a cool head. So far, whoever was animating the statue only seemed intent on spooking them. Considering they were dealing with two Aurors with a considerable degree of experience, Harry was confident they’d figure this out soon enough.

Underestimating criminals wasn’t something he did, but neither did he tend to downplay their own hard-earned skills. With those reassuring thoughts resonating in his head, Harry turned around once more towards the corridor and promptly froze, eyes narrowing at the full-body statue of an eerily smiling angel standing just beyond the now open door.

 _‘How-?! We’d have heard movement from an animated statue! We’d have noticed a Transfiguration going on within the range of our spells!’_ Instead of voicing his thoughts, Harry warned his partner.

“There’s a huge statue standing in the doorway.” Really, there had to be some sort of commendation for the way he managed to deliver that line in a deadpan voice.

Lisa groaned. “Merlin, what the _fuck_ is going on?” she said, despondent.

Despite himself, Harry cracked a smile at that as he glanced at Lisa. “Hell if I know it. Actually, it reminds me of- _Bloody hell_!” Harry screamed out of nowhere when he looked back at the statue and it appeared centimeters away from touching his face.

Its face had gone from the blank unemotional capability of cold stone to the snarling visage of a fanged demon; its stony hands, outstretched towards him, sported long, razor-sharp claws on each finger.

The next seconds happened too fast for him to be able to react. Giggles echoed from behind him. It was a sound he’d link to young babies, but it sounded off, way too high on the vocal scale, which turned it into a sound that chilled the bones. He felt Lisa’s Auror cloak brushing against him as she turned around, reacting to Harry’s scream. It was an instinctive reaction, turning to protect her partner, but she'd have never reacted quickly enough.

Harry blinked.

* * *

**xOOOx**

* * *

Harry did not know when he awoke. He did not know if he had been asleep to begin with. He only knew that at some point, he’d been aware of the fact his eyes were open, staring up at the birth of a new star.

It was a large ball of purple light suspended well above him, glowing brightly even as spots around its uneven surface glowed white intermittently. Despite the distance, it still loomed large above him and if he strained the eyes, he could even spot a massive sea of grey dust surrounding the new star even during its birth. Only the darkness of space surrounded the forming star, a darkness broken only by the dots of light from glittering distant stars. They were countless in number. 

He spent the next several moments observing the phenomenon with something akin to undiluted awe before he realized he should not be able to see such a sight. Harry Potter gasped, sitting up and taking stock of himself and his surroundings.

A quick cursory glance told him he was back in that bizarre place he’d appeared the day Voldemort died. It was a recreation of King’s Cross Station once more, just like it had been when he woke up after being hit by Voldemort’s Avada Kedavra. The arches and pillars that supported the overall structure were steeped in mist, which shrouded the furthest areas of the platform from view as well. The train tracks were empty, just like before.

He woke up still dressed this time, thankfully. _‘Thank god for small mercies, at least.’_

Last time, Dumbledore had been waiting for him here, giving him the option to return or move on. This time, instead of the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts, seven individuals stood in silence waiting for him in this surreal version of King’s Cross Station.

Scrambling to his feet, he reached out for his wand holster only to realize belatedly that he was already holding a wand, but not the one he was expecting to see, as a quick glance proved. His holly and phoenix feather core wand didn’t have small knobs that resembled elderberries on the wand’s wood, after all.

Gritting his teeth, he made sure to keep the strange individuals in his sights.

One of them, the nearest to him, wore a wolf cap atop a mane of dark hair. His skin was tanned, and keen stormy gray eyes peered at him. Though Harry could not completely confirm it due to the bushy beard the man had, it appeared he was pursing his lips in thought. In his hands, a spear was held aloft, upon which a snake curled lazily.

The next figure was a woman, wearing a flowing white tunic fastened to the shoulders and leaving her arms bare. Under a crown of leaves fell brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail and she appeared with the bearing of a comely young woman, almost a girl. She smiled upon him as she noticed his attention and Harry quickly shifted his focus to the strange shade that stood near her.

This shade had no visible form that Harry could discern, merely a pit of gently churning shadows gathered into the form of a man. The shade remained unnaturally still and it carried a large weathered scythe behind it, with a worn handle but polished onyx blade. The sight of it filled Harry with an inexplicable dread.

The fourth individual was another woman, but where her fellow had the posture of a gentle being, this one sported the bearing of a warrior. She wore a hooded cloak of black feathers that fell to her ankles, draped over ancient leather armor with dark steel additions. The inky darkness of the dark mane of hair that spilled over her shoulders made for a stark contrast against the ghostly pallor of her skin. Twin sickles hung from her belt and strange runes were tattooed under her eyes and on her brow.

The fifth was another woman, this time of distinctly Asian appearance. She had white hair pulled into a bun, held together by bone hairpins, and she wore traditional eastern clothing and a shawl of dark blue fabric. Though she carried herself with elegance, a blue satin blindfold covered her eyes. In her hands she held a small piece of earthenware, from which steamed an unknown liquid.

The next individual stood apart from the others, studying him. Though Harry looked upon the individual, he could not quite find the words to describe them. He could see hair and wrinkles, but the hair shortened as he tried to describe its hue and the wrinkles smoothed when he traced them with his eyes. He had neither the virility of a full beard nor the femininity of a bosom’s swell. When he raised his gaze to stare at the being’s eyes and he saw the dying stars contained within them, something withink Harry quailed. He know no human could have such a face. 

Harry recognized none of them and their appearance was wholly unfamiliar to him. All except one. Turning to the last one, he could not help the scowl that twisted his face when he spotted the last being that stood in front of him. He knew him. It was the spirit that haunted his dreams and his own sanity.

“ _You_.” Even his voice sounded curdled to his ears.

“Me, indeed. Welcome, Harry Potter. Do not be alarmed, for you are amongst friends here,” the spirit spoke and yet the fanged grin that he gave him spoke a different tale. Harry didn’t ease the grip on the Elder Wand. Would it even work against him? “Good question, yes. After all, are you not its Master? Or you would be – if you were to truly accept the Pact.”

“Who are you? Why am I here again? As far as I know, I’m not dead,” Harry questioned with narrowed eyes.

“Answers shall be given, young Harry. Come, sit with me,” a middle-aged woman wearing the crown of leaves spoke up with a kind smile, patting the space next to her on the bench she was sitting on. When had that bench appeared?

 _‘Actually, didn’t she look like a woman_ _some years younger than me just seconds ago?’_ The woman’s smile simply grew a tiny bit bigger.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this… but a strange eerie calm had settled over him despite his suspicion. Shoulders tense like a scared cat, he slowly approached the bench. The others parted in silence as he walked, giving him an open path and when he reached the woman, he sat next to her on the bench.

Disregarding his tension and suspicion, she reached out and clasped one of his hands with hers. Harry was immediately struck by their warmth. “You are confused, anxious. That is understandable, but as he has told you, nothing will harm you here. That is not why you are here.”

“Am I dead? Last time I was here, Voldemort hit me with the Avada Kedavra.”

“No, you are not dead. However, you ran afoul of fell beasts and that is the reason you are here.”

“You mean those… statues? What are they? Some kind of delayed automaton charm or something?"

A displeased look twisted the woman’s gentle features, but Harry had the impression it wasn’t meant for him. “Those abominations are not the product of neither magic nor sorcery; I would know. They should not exist in this world… and yet they do. A conundrum.”

That explained little to Harry. “That doesn’t tell me anything. What exactly are those statues?”

“Those beasts do not kill or attack in the sense you are familiar with. They feed on time itself, on the energies left by those they send to a past not their own,” the shade spoke, drawing attention to itself. Its voice was a whisper that rang clearly over the area. “They inflicted the same fate on you.”

Harry mulled over the words for a moment before the implications of what he’d been told sunk in and the realization washed over him like a bucket of ice cold water. “Wait, you mean-”

“That is correct. You can no longer return to your time.”

"What, but- no, that's impossible… That's impossible! Evelyn-" 

"The path back to your issue is barred from you, Son of James. Seek not ‘tis winding trail, for it shall not welcome thee," the woman wearing the cloak of black feathers warned him.

"That's my daughter! I'll go through anyone that tries to keep me away from her! Even you, whatever you are!" Harry exclaimed as he sprung to his feet, glaring at the woman.

But though he held the Elder Wand in a threatening grip and his face grew red from his incensed rage, none of the strange beings appeared concerned. 

" _Lo_! The crack of thunder rumbles in your words! The Sea-Brightener would be heartened by them, even if she could not be here today!" the raven-haired woman called out with a grin. 

“It could not be helped, though she dearly wished to appear. Seven is the number. Mardöll chose to stay behind – but spoken thus, her radiance shines so with her choice,” the man with tan skin and the wolf cap spoke. His voice was rough and as he shifted on his spot, the snake coiled around his spear twitched.

 _‘Old fool, stop waving me about!’_ it hissed in displeasure as it was disturbed.

It was all just too much. "Enough! Enough, dammit! I don't bloody care about whatever radiance you're talking about! I don't care about this Sea-Brightener or this Mardöll! I care about my _daughter_ and I want to go back to her. Now!” Harry snarled, pointing the Elder Wand at them all.

“Harry, come here,” sighed a breathy voice, breaking momentarily his growing temper.

Turning towards it, he stopped short when he saw that the middle-aged woman that had held his hand was now a wizened crone, weathered by age. And yet, her now wheezing voice still carried the lingering touch of power. Despite himself, Harry sat down, but the dark scowl on his face didn't vanish.

“Your confusion is understandable and it can only be laid at our feet. We have long grown distant from those who would listen to us, but that is a cold excuse. Let there be peace in this gathering.”

“Who are you?” Harry demanded to know, eyeing them all suspiciously. Above them, the nascent star was slowly settling down, emitting a soft purple light upon the station and giving it even more of an otherworldly appearance than it had before.

Several of the figures shifted uneasily, but it was still the crone wearing the leaf crown who answered him. “They are the heralds of the end, the bringers of new beginnings. Death is their purview and such is their fate. Names carry power, young Harry – simply understand that we are here to help.”

“Help with what? How do you expect me to trust you if you won’t even give a straight answer to that simple question?”

Hearing this, the sickle-wielding woman threw back her head and let out a short cackle. “Ha, let it be known! You speak truth, son of James! I, Morrígu, the Crow Bearer, greet you in this hall!”

The crone didn’t seem to approve of Morrígu’s action, but refrained from speaking out against it, choosing to address Harry once more instead. “Young Harry, I know this to be painful, but we have not lied to you. Those foul beasts have cast you from time and space. It is how they feed, as I told you.”

Harry wanted to shout; a great rage bubbled within him, threatening to boil over and burst out. He wanted to rave and scream at these people that kept saying he couldn’t go back to his daughter. He wanted to yell he’d never stop trying. He’d broken into Gringotts and escaped on a dragon’s back, he’d survived being hunted by Death Eaters for an entire year. He’d killed Voldemort, Merlin's beard!

Nothing would stop him from coming back to Evelyn.

But for all his fury raged, another part of him knew it was hopeless. He didn’t know how or why, but on some fundamental level, Harry knew they weren’t lying to him. He hated the pitying look the crone gave him, though.

“Aye, young Harry - it is pity you see, for what can one feel but pity when children are taken from their parents? A great travesty, but the world cares naught for such.”

The fury and the rage fled, abandoning him to the horrifying realization that this was really happening, that these strange beings had somehow plucked him from time, that Evelyn was now out of his reach in more ways than just physical distance.

“Oh God, Evelyn…” he moaned with a broken whisper as he flopped onto the bench, all strength gone. As if driven by some sort of sadistic intent, his mind kept repeating the fact that Time-Turners only wound back time, not forward.

So encompassing was this thought repeated over and over in his head, that even the gentle hug the crone gave him was lost on Harry. But when she next spoke with the vigor of youth once more, her words pierced through the bleakness of his state.

“The loss of a child is a terrible thing, but not all might be lost, young Harry.”

As if struck by lightning, Harry pulled away and stared at the crone with wide eyes. She was smiling sadly at him, now with the face of a young woman yet again. “What are you talking about? Is there a way to go back? Tell me!”

“Had we not intervened, the sorrowful angels would have sent you to your world’s past several decades prior, mayhaps even a century. Seeing a chance, we acted,” she explained.

“As the breeze upon the plains breaks on the stone, so too did we plant a boulder in the path,” the shade spoke then. “Your journey through time now broken, only the final destination remains to be reached.”

The spirit that had haunted his waking moments stepped up to him, peering at Harry through the emptiness of its bony eye sockets. “Your world is one of many, countless others exist beyond the ken of mortal beings. One of them cries desperately for help, a plea flung into the darkness. We heard, we listened, we answered. A great evil marches on that world; unless someone stops it, many if not all will perish.”

That, at the very least, was a bit clearer to Harry. Although it still left him with more questions than answers, it was enough for him to start understanding the situation.

“Why are you telling me this? Death is your thing, you said it yourself. I thought that would be right up your street,” Harry asked, frowning when most of the figures hissed or scowled. The world rumbled under the strain of their barely suppressed rage, but a sharp glare from the young woman cowed them enough and the pressure upon his shoulders vanished.

“That is no true death, only… undeath. A perversion of nature that must be smote from existence,” the man with the wolf cap said with a sneer.

“And that is why you are here. Cast from time itself for but a single moment, we have plucked you from it to redirect your course. You must banish the foul monsters that perpetuate this curse,” the shade told him.

“What has that got anything to do with me? I just want to go back to my daughter!” Harry shouted as he glared at them.

“Do this, and you will have a chance to see her again.”

Naturally, this brazen attempt at manipulation only served to enrage him further. “Of course it wouldn’t be so simple! You’d hold my daughter against me to force me to agree?” Harry raged, clearly livid.

“Nay, Harry Potter, the Kourotrophos would not stoop so low! For every boon, a price must be paid, that is how the universe works. She shan’t keep your daughter from you, she shall give thee the chance to see her again!” the cloaked woman declared.

Harry simply scowled at her. “Really? And why should I believe you? Because from my position, I have no reason to trust anything you say.”

“That is not our nature. Death does not lie. It just is,” the scythe-carrying shade told him.

“And is that what you are? Death?” Harry asked, body tensing as the pieces of the puzzle slowly fell into place.

“We are friends of death, kin to it in different ways. It is our sovereignty and our burden both. Except for the Kourotrophos,” the shade amended, nodding with respect to the young woman, who gave Harry a sad smile. “She demanded to be present today, as is her right.”

“Why?”

“Why does the shepherd watch over his flock? She is the patron of your people,” the bearded man with the wolf cap said, but the explanation might as well have been rocket science to Harry. It made no sense to him, but he didn’t question it. He had bigger concerns than that.

Silence fell after that exchange, with Harry mulling over what he’d been told and the seven beings of Death allowing him the peace of his thoughts alone.

Everything they had said sounded incredibly far-fetched, but could he really deny it when it stared at him in the face? Raising his head to look at the nascent purple star in its infancy, Harry shuddered. No, he couldn’t. _‘My lot in life has never really been a normal one, has it?’_

“Why did you keep appearing to me?” he suddenly asked, turning to look at the spirit he’d seen for well over a year now.

The apparition tilted his head, as if the question itself was amusing. “You reunited the Three Hallows, young friend. I wanted you to accept the mantle, but your stubbornness stopped you from seeing the truth in front of you.”

“And hounding me like some sort of ghost would have made me accept? You tormented me for months on end!” Seriously, it was like speaking to a bloody wall! How could this… _thing_ think driving him insane for an entire year was okay?! And just because… what, he decided to put away the Hallows?!

“You refused to listen. You became kin to Death when you reunited the three, but hid them away in fear. Foolish; there is no escape from Death.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe those fairy tales about the Master of Death are true,” Harry said with a disbelieving snort.

“There is always a truth buried in the old stories. It is the greed of Man that warps it. There are many ways to master something, indeed,” the spirit replied, shrugging lightly in a surprisingly humane gesture.

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. Just as he was about to give the spirit a biting retort, he froze as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “Shit, Lisa! I just remembered- she was with me!” he shouted with wide eyes.

Guilt welled up in him. God, how could he have forgotten about her?! She was his partner and for all he knew, she was stranded in the past alone and without friends! Sure, Evelyn was his priority, but he should have thought about her sooner!

The bearded man raised a hand in a placating manner before he could even ask. “Be at ease, young Harry, your companion is well and hale. Your proximity when the angels struck saved her. She will accompany you, aid you in your task… but her situation shan’t be the same as yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked with narrowed eyes.

The young woman gave him a sad look, shaking her head. “You shall remember her after a time, but she never will. For every boon, a price must be paid. She will remain by your side, but fated to never remember. That will be her price.”

“And I suppose kicking up a fuss would do nothing, would it?” the green-eyed wizard asked, anger twisting his face when several of the seven individuals shook their heads.

Harry cursed loudly, letting out a bit of the pent up frustration that had been building up ever since he’d arrived at this strange place and met these people. In fact, it was something that had been gradually snowballing since the first months the spirit linked to the Hallows appeared. Was he… it Death? He didn’t quite know, but if these strange beings were to be believed, they were certainly linked to the concept itself.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry turned away from the beings or gods or spirits or whatever they were, and stared blankly into the misty nothingness that resembled King’s Cross station. A part of him wanted to wave the Elder Wand and start blasting away - at the station’s pillars, at the empty tracks, at the group of seven standing behind him, at anything and everything.

But though he dearly wished to do so, he remained still. _'This isn't fair. None of this is.'_ He hadn't asked for this and yet, he'd been put in an impossible situation. And now they were telling him that his own partner would lose her own memories forever?

He wanted to do something. Anything! But much as he hated it, he knew lashing out in anger would do little except give him a petty satisfaction that would ring hollow afterwards. And he very much doubted turning his wand on the seven would end well for him. Someone behind him sniggered, falling short of cackling, and Harry scowled. From the voice, it had been Morrígu, the woman with the feather cloak.

“Why me? Why not another?” he asked after some time in silence, turning to look at the others.

“Because you are the hidden host lying in wait, the lone dagger in the darkness. They will not expect you. None of them will,” the Crow Bearer said, a gleaming smirk tugging at her lips and looking completely unapologetic under the reproachful gaze of the Kourotrophos, now a mature woman.

“It can only be you. Cast adrift in time, kin to Death and with the strength of will and virtue to rise against Evil.”

“I already did that! I did my part, I killed Voldemort, what more do I have to do?! Leave me alone!”

“I wish it weren’t so, but the universe oft asks a heavy toll of people like you, young Harry,” the Kourotrophos commiserated.

Harry scoffed. “People like me?”

“Heroes,” the brown-haired woman clarified, stunning the vanquisher of Voldemort into silence.

“I’m not a hero,” he eventually denied. His voice was heavy with old regrets. “I made mistakes, I got people killed. I was just a scared kid way over my head.”

“Only when we are afraid can we truly be brave. Countless people will die in that world; parents will lose their children and children will mourn their lost parents. You can change that. Would you truly turn away from them?” the shade asked him.

“I just want to raise my daughter in peace, is that too much to ask for? Let others defend their own world, there must be someone who can do it!” Harry pleaded, avoiding the question, but despite the fact some of the seven looked sympathetic, they all remained silent.

Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. A deep weariness settled over him; it was obvious arguing about this would lead him nowhere. “If I do this… will I see Evelyn again? Will I get my daughter back?” he asked and none present dared to point out the desperation that visibly creeped into his voice.

But it was acknowledged nonetheless, because the brown-haired woman gave him a kind look. “Succeed in your task and you shall be reunited with your daughter once more.”

For a long time, Harry didn’t speak, staring at the floor deep in thought. The seven beings respectfully gave him time; they all knew they were asking a great sacrifice from the man, but none questioned Harry Potter’s character and their belief was validated when he nodded. He looked resigned and disheartened, but he still nodded.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

“And thus, a bargain is struck,” the woman with the crown of leaves spoke, rising at last from the bench. “Lady of Diyu?”

At the exhortation, the white-haired Asian woman with the blue blindfold stepped forward, steaming cup cradled in her hands. It was in that moment that Harry realized he’d never heard her speak once since he’d met these strange beings of death. Even her mere presence had slipped from his mind until she’d been called upon.

“Harry Potter, we place countless hopes on your shoulders. Trust in your heart and the strength of your soul to find the way,” the Lady of Diyu told him with a soft voice before offering the cup to him.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the earthenware piece with distrust.

“You must drink this if you are to travel the stars. It is the only way, it shall prepare your soul for the strain.”

Taking the cup from her, Harry sniffed tentatively the dark brew within. It had a strong earthy aroma, but it wasn’t really unpleasant. Harry glanced at the middle-aged woman, now appearing with a crone's face again, and he saw her nod at him.

He hesitated. "What about those things? Those stone statues? Sorrowful angels, you called them?"

"They will trouble you no more where you go, Harry Potter. Do not concern yourself with their ilk - another shall deal with them," the spear-wielding man assured him.

Knowing he couldn't put it off anymore, Harry sighed. Bringing the cup to his lips, he poured its contents into his mouth despite his misgivings. He was only doing this for Evelyn. To get back to his daughter. _'Wait for me, sweetie. I'll come back!'_

The brew tasted strange, a blend of five flavors at once and none at the same time as it trickled down his throat. When the cup was empty and no more liquid fell, the man pulled away and looked down at it, a puzzled look on his face.

“I… where am I?” he asked, looking at the gathered people around him with curiosity. There was no gleam of recognition in his vibrant green eyes and they quickly focused on a man as he stepped forward. He had a bushy beard and he wore the pelt of a wolf as a cap.

“Thou are a wanderer, my friend, given a new purpose. Do you remember?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Remember… what? I- I can’t seem to. Who are you?” the man asked, but then a vague frown marred his face. “Do you know my name? I can’t seem to remember that, either.”

Much as he tried, the nameless man couldn’t recall it and though this should have frightened him, he merely acknowledged the fact.

“Everything shall come in due time. For now, I name thee kinsman, for kin we are,” the bearded man told him before addressing the others with a sigh. “He is ready.” He didn’t linger long on the tears the crone shed as the Lady of Diyu held her hands with sadness.

But the so-called kinsman didn’t miss the interaction and sympathy welled up in him. “Why is she crying? Did something happen to her?”

“She grieves for her lost ward, but she knew she had to let go. Duty is the most bitter of virtues,” a strange shade with a scythe on his back whispered.

The kinsman approached the crone, stopping before her and giving her a respectful look filled with empathy. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am. I’m sure they will come back,” he told her, grateful that she gave him a tear-stained smile despite her obvious grief.

“He is lost for now, but all eventually find the way. I am heartened by your words nonetheless. All shall be well," she told him with a wheezing voice and just as he nodded, her appearance changed to that of a youthful woman in the blink of an eye.

“Kinsman, we require a boon of you!” a voice boomed in that moment, drawing his attention away from the strange change. Turning towards the voice, the kinsman saw a slender, dark-haired woman approach. She had deathly pale skin and she was wrapped in a cloak of black feathers.

"What is it?"he asked. With the woman stopping in front of him, the kinsman could see the strange tattoos on her cheeks and forehead.

“You shall travel to a land of swords and blood, where wraiths threaten to plunge the world into an unending night of winter and undeath. You shall live and die and live again and you shall kill the wraith leader. This, we task you with.”

The kinsman blinked for a moment, but he found himself nodding along. “Alright, but can I really do that? It sounds impossible.”

“Ha! You have already done the impossible before, ‘tis shall be like reuniting with a lost _cara_!” the woman declared, but a strange spirit raised a skeletal hand, cutting her off. He wore all black, cloaked in shadows, and the kinsman could only see the outline of a gaunt, bony face peeking through them.

“You will have the necessary tools. Undeath marches on the living, young friend, and countless souls will fall with none to be spared. You can change that. And you will.”

As if hearing a silent signal, the seven figures came to stand in a loose semicircular formation in front of the kinsman, looking at him with great solemnity. The kinsman only felt confusion at this, but fear didn't take hold of his heart.

The first of them, the spear-wielding man, stepped up with a grave look on his face. “Upon the first year struck, you shall remember thy name.”

The young woman, now a middle-aged one once again, came next and gave him a soft smile. “Upon the second year passed, you shall regain thy magic."

This time, the shade spoke. "Upon the third year reached, you shall reunite with thy companion."

"Upon the fourth year gained, you shall receive the curse of remembrance," the white-haired woman chanted.

The woman with the cloak of feathers came next, almost brimming with an odd, badly hidden enthusiasm that broke her attempt at solemnity. "Upon the fifth year completed, you shall recover Death's Wand!"

The spirit of shadows spoke next, regarding the kinsman with an indecipherable look. "Upon the sixth year finalized, you shall retake Death's Stone."

"Upon the seventh and final year, you shall reclaim Death's Cloak and the circle will thus be complete. Seven years, seven shards destroyed, seven pieces of yourself reconquered," the final figure said, speaking for the first time as it approached the kinsman.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

The figure, neither man nor woman, simply smiled, but the gesture held no warmth. In their eyes shone the stars' last breath, the dying of the light. "You will understand when the time is right. Now, look! It is time for you to leave this place and begin anew," they said, pointing somewhere behind him.

When the kinsman turned, he saw a horse. His skin was ashen, deathly pale, but he didn't appear sickly. The horse’s dark eyes shone with a cunning gleam and he stood on an open field, a path of dirt behind him. Above him, a purple star loomed high.

"Go! Mount the horse and ride forward! Do not look back and go forth through the stars to your new land!"

Possessed by a strange urge that compelled him to do just as the being said, the kinsman rushed to the horse, clambering onto his back with great difficulty.

"Go forth, kinsman! Go forth!"

The horse neighed, breaking into a gallop and pulling him into the mists that surrounded them while he held onto the horse's neck for dear life. They dashed at a rapid pace through the mists, which soon grew heavy and thickened until he could see little beyond the tip of his nose. Even the form of the horse blurred eventually, dimming with each powerful stride even though he still felt his strong back against his thighs.

The world faded, but the words echoing in his ears still rang loud and strong. "Go forth, kinsman! Go forth and save the world!"

And then he knew no more.

* * *

**xOOOx**

* * *

When he opened his eyes, it was to the faint squawking of seagulls.

He rose up, noting he'd been lying on a large bed with covers of high-quality. They were red and black, a combination that brought a smile to his face without really knowing why. Looking down at himself, he noted he was wearing a thin, loose white shirt and little else, though he scarcely felt embarrassment at his near nakedness.

Sliding from the bed with a groan, he stretched for a brief moment before he took a moment to look at the room he woke up in. The walls were built with pale red stone, covered in some parts by small paintings of landscapes and people that looked familiar to him. A large cabinet took most of a wall, and one of the open doors revealed that it was full of clothes.

The room had columns that acted as support structures, carved with intricate designs, and it also had two doors on each side, made with oak and banded with iron - one was closed, while the other led to what appeared to be a second chamber. Several windows lined the wall opposite of the bed decorated with tiles of stained glass, depicting brave warriors and maidens of light.

He could hear the call of the seagulls once again, reaching his ears through the closed windows and curious despite himself, he approached the wall. Unlocking the wooden latches, he opened one of them only to shake his head when a faint foul smell reached his nostrils.

"This city is really a cesspool of shit and piss,” he grumbled. Even so far from the city itself, the stench still reached the Red Keep some days.

_Red Keep?_

He froze, blinking as the odd thought crossed his mind. It was like he was missing something, something truly important but much as he tried, it felt like trying to grasp wisps of inky smoke. “Am I forgetting something? I don’t think so…” he muttered to himself, but his voice sounded unsure even to himself.

A sudden firm rapping at the door broke the cloud of uneasiness that was beginning to settle upon him. "Your Grace, your sister, Princess Shaena, is here and wishes to see you," a voice spoke from the other side.

 _‘Ser Jonothor Darry,_ ’ his mind supplied as if he should already know that.

Blinking, he moved to his cloth cabinet. "One moment!" he hollered. Uttering a low swear under his breath, he rummaged frantically for several moments, breathing a sigh of relief when he located his smallclothes. Slipping them on, he pulled on a pair of dark breeches he found, quickly lacing the strings before he moved to the door and opened it.

A tall girl swept into his chambers, neatly sidestepping him. She began speaking before he could get a word in edgewise. "Good morning, little brother! Were you still asleep? You know our lord father doesn't like it when you sleep in!"

At the door remained two tall men donned with white cloaks and a pure white, unadorned shield. One of them wore a gaudy-looking helmet, emblazoned with the form of a bat whose extended wings decorated the helmet's sides. The man wearing it gave him a friendly nod before he closed the door, leaving him alone with his sister.

_My sister? That can't be right._

"Little brother? Are you addled? Don't tell me you haven't yet woken fully!" the girl said with a frown and he looked at her.

She was slightly tall - _taller than me_ -, and she held herself aloft with a vaguely awkward bearing, as if she were still coming onto her own. However, she had a mane of long, platinum white hair and her eyes were of a piercing purple color, which gave her a striking appearance. And yet despite everything, she appeared young.

"Huh?"

With that intelligent response, the girl rolled her eyes in a decidedly informal gesture. "As I thought, still not fully here. Wake up, Daeron! I heard Lord Tywin Lannister and his daughter will be arriving at King's Landing tomorrow and there's much to prepare!"

The name - _Daeron Daeron DaeronDaeronDaeron_ \- jostled something within him, as if a badly fitting cloak had been straightened across his shoulders, adjusting it better to his form. The strange unease that had been forming at the pit of his stomach eased, sinking into the depths of his subconscious mind as something settled.

Daeron scowled at his elder sister. “I know that! How could I forget it when Father has been ranting enough about it for days?” he grumbled.

“Careful, little brother, such things about our lord father are best kept to yourself. He mislikes such talk about him, you know that,” his sister warned, wandering over the table where a book had been left open in the middle. “Tales of Beedle the Bard? He must not be renowned, I know not of any bard named Beedle,” Shaena remarked after glancing at the cover, but there was little interest in her voice and she quickly moved on.

She missed the look of confusion on her little brother’s face. Much like his sister, he didn’t know of any bard with that name, but neither did he remember opening any book before going to sleep yesterday. However, he decided to remain silent and say nothing to Shaena. The book certainly couldn’t be very memorable if he didn’t even remember a thing about it and she'd no doubt tease him if he mentioned it.

His sister flitted around his chambers. She always did it when visiting him there, she was too restless a soul to sit primly for several hours in a row.

Daeron vaguely knew it wasn’t truly a good trait of Shaena’s, but mother adored her and well, no one had ever said anything about it before. _‘So, it really can’t be that bad, right?’_

He watched Shaena pass by a large painting of Visenya Targaryen, who carried both ringmail and Dark Sister and looking no less graceful for it in her deadly beauty. With her impressive skill both in and off the battlefield, the Conqueror’s sister-wife had always been a source of queer fascination with him in the short years of his life.

“Shaena, did you only come here to remind me of the Lannisters' coming?” he eventually asked, a grumpy look on his face.

“Of course not. Our brother Rhaegar let me know he wanted to talk with us, so I came to fetch you and Ser Jonothor,” Shaena explained. “Better get dressed quickly, little brother. Besides, you want to look good for Cersei Lannister tomorrow, right? I hear she’s really beautiful even at two-and-ten!” she said with a bright smirk.

“What are you saying? That doesn’t matter to me!” he exclaimed, hating the way his voice suddenly broke and the flush he felt coming to his cheeks. _‘At least someone is enjoying herself,’_ he thought waspishly as his sister giggled at him.

However, even as he departed with a laughing Shaena in search of his elder brother Rhaegar several minutes later, Daeron couldn’t help but feel he was forgetting something once more. Something really, _really_ important, but much as he tried, it wouldn’t come to him.

_‘Oh, well, it surely will come to me later.’_

Within Daeron's empty chambers remained the strange book Shaena had inspected, still on the table she's spotted it. From the still open window came a strong gust of wind, sweeping into the room and causing the pages from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to flip over until they landed on a page showing an exquisitely detailed drawing.

This sketch, colored with bright paints, depicted a cloaked figure of shadow. Its face was hidden under the cloak's hood, but a crown was laid upon its hooded brow and the cloak settled over its shoulders with the shimmer of stars. On its right hand, the figure grasped a small wooden stick with small knobs and on its left hand, he wore a stone set on a ring. On the stone's surface there was a symbol: a straight vertical line, surrounded by a circle enclosed within a pyramid.

At the bottom of the drawing, there was a caption, embossed within an elegant banner.

" _Therein lies the Stranger, the face of death._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, those were the Weeping Angels from Dr. Who. 
> 
> The last couple of paragraphs might be a little too bit on the nose, but ending it on Harry/Daeron’s last thought didn’t feel quite right. 
> 
> Did you manage to recognize and identify all seven beings of Death? Well, more like six and a guest! I'd have put them in the tags, but doing so would have been a spoiler in and of itself. 
> 
> I wrote this near the end of 2016, but never posted it and forgot all about it till now. It has gone through an extensive rewrite (especially on the second chapter). The original draft of this two-shot way back in 2016 ended with Harry and Lisa being sent into the past during the height of muggle WWII and the Global Wizarding War during 1942 rather than Westeros. The second chapter was also quite shorter. This major change came pretty much before the story was published, as I decided to go a little crazier with it. I still have the original parts of the second part, though. 
> 
> And before someone likes the premise and asks me about it – no, I have no current plans to develop this into a proper full-fledged story. Maybe one day, I do have a couple of ideas, but I doubt I could actually write a good ASOIAF/GOT story.
> 
> If you liked the story, please consider leaving kudos and maybe even a review! I'd like to hear your thoughts on the two-shot.


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